Dream Journal #6

I cheated on this one, the original version of this was a dream I had years ago.  It’s here, but it’s mostly the same thing below:

My wife threw a huge party for my 35th birthday.  There were way too many people crowded into our tiny apartment and the sound of conversation was the only thing you could hear, drowning out even the sound of the music coming from the satellite radio.  My wife had literally invited all of our friends and about half of our family.  There was lots and lots of drinking and talking.  And as more alcohol was consumed, the volume of the conversation steadily rose.  At some point, I said something really insensitive and stupid.  I don’t remember exactly what I said – I was way past the point of remembering anything by then.  Did I insult her religion maybe?  Did I insult her family?  I have no idea.  But I do remember the moment that I said it.  As I said it, I looked up at my wife and I saw the smile fall from her face, the brightness fade from her eyes, and I remember thinking that the expression on her face looked as though everything that made her happy had been destroyed.  At that split second, two things happened simultaneously:  My heart broke, knowing that I’d just verbally shit on the best thing that ever happened to me…and everyone around us began to laugh at what I’d said.  Because, cruel or not, what I’d said was funny.

And now, several weeks later, she still hasn’t spoken to me.  She hasn’t even acknowledged my presence.  I cry, I plead, I beg for her forgiveness, but I may as well be a ghost.  The only noise I hear her make is the sound of her fingers typing on the keyboard as she surfs the internet looking for a new place to live.  This is the only sound I’ve heard her make since the night of the party.  And the sound is killing me.


Tim Hatch lives in a secret volcano headquarters somewhere in the South Pacific, where he controls the world economy and writes confessional poetry about his disappointing childhood.

His poetry has been published in MungBeing, East Jasmine Review, The Pacific Review, The Vehicle, Touch: The Journal Of Healing, Apeiron Review, and he is the recipient of the 2014 Felix Valdez Award.

He finds writing about himself in the third person to be an overtly seductive invitation to tell lies.

He once captured a French Eagle at Talavera.

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